Boredom

Daylight shines through the blinds. The window’s open- has been all night. No doubt the spiders have been scuttling in and crawling into my mouth. They’re in my head, wrapping my brain in cobwebs. Stumbling out of bed, I go to the bathroom and urinate. In the mirror, I see a mess of a man. Disheveled and tired, maybe a bath before work will make things better. Maybe the warm water will melt away sin and set me free. Going downstairs, I make a cup of tea then go outside into the garden. Standing there looking up at the sky, next doors cat comes out from behind the shed and walks in circles around my legs. Sitting down with my back against the wall, I let it lick my hand before it grows bored and walks over to the bird bath. Climbing up, it drinks some dirty water before disappearing out of view. Swallowing a mouthful of tea, images blossom in my temporal lobe. Flesh and bone, rolling fields and old bus journeys. Trees in autumn with shedding leaves and puddles on broken pavements. There’s an area of woodland, a place where bluebells grow. The taste of biscuits, the scent of furniture polish. Dust and ancient ornaments, along with relics of forgotten Sundays. The cat comes back and is looking at me from behind a flower pot. Its brown fur shining in cold sunlight, it’s too chilly for me, so I get up and go back inside. I entertain thoughts of masturbation, of tasting a little lukewarm pleasure. But I’m not in the mood, I’m sexless and indifferent. Boredom, it wraps itself around me and won’t let go. Not the typical boredom that the insects complain of, the kind they moan about when they don’t have anything to do for a few hours. I’m talking about the kind that drapes itself over the landscape; that soaks itself into the very fabric of my existence. I’m constantly longing for something more, but I don’t know what it is. I’m always searching the mysteries of my mind, trying to discover what it is that will make me feel alive. Something to do with words, maybe. I hope it rains today, I want to walk to work drenched by a storm. If the streets flooded and swept me away, I’d smile, if only for a while. Closing my eyes, I see endless shapes and imagery that need to be captured. Breathing in the scent of oranges, I marvel at hidden truths and wonder. Secrets, longing to see the light of day after all these years.

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